Page 14 of A Trickster’s Temptation

Time no longer mattered as they sank down onto the grass, their fingers finding a mutual rhythm to pleasure one another as the stars shone overhead. Mary found herself moaning, the sound loud enough to make her blush—but she got to be Amelia Hardwick, who never blushed, who could moan as loudly as she liked as Adam curled his fingers at her entrance, almost entering her but not quite as he teased, played, explored.

This moment between them had years of meaning in it. As if every encounter she and Adam had shared was being rewritten, recast in the light of what was happening now. Even if they were only using their hands, it felt far more fundamental. As if they were making love, as if Adam was inside her, claiming her; that was happening with every touch, every kiss, every almost startled look she and Adam shared as they coaxed one another onward.

Onward to where? Mary had felt things thanks to her own explorations before, but they had been faint shadows compared to what was coming now. The tight knot building at the base of her stomach, the craven urge to be filled, used… oh, it was growingunbearable.

‘You’re close.’ Adam’s whisper only heightened the pleasure. ‘I can feel it.’

‘I—I’m frightened.’

‘Is Amelia Hardwick frightened of pleasure?’

‘I… I don’t know…’

‘I don’t think she is.’ Adam pressed his fingertips a little tighter to her bud. ‘I don’t think she is at all.’

She’d insisted on being Amelia Hardwick, but now she felt like Mary Fine again. Mary, who was being brought to the point of near-insanity by just how good Adam was making her feel with little more than his hands and mouth.

Mary, who was giving all of herself to Adam with every passing moment. Body, soul, heart—everything.

‘Come for me. Bring me all that pleasure.’ Adam murmured in Mary’s ear, his fingers slick and hot against her bud. ‘Do it now.’

Taking an order from Adam Hart? Mary had never thought it would happen. But now, on the point of a pleasure that felt almost devastating, she could do nothing but nod obediently. She stroked Adam’s cock with a rhythm that felt almost frantic, her thighs squeezed tightly together as the knot at her core began to unravel.

‘Oh, I—Adam, ohhh…’ She collapsed onto the grass, breathless as fireworks shot through her. ‘Oh, God.’

‘I know. I know.’ Adam’s breath caught in his throat; hot seed splashed onto Mary’s hand, her fingers suddenly slick as she kept her hand on his cock. ‘Come for me. I—oh, Mary, come for me.’

He kept stroking her through her climax, his fingers expertly light as he caressed her bud. Mary shivered as the pleasure ebbed and flowed, eventually falling to a manageable level as she cuddled close to Adam. Adam pressed his other hand to the small of her back, his touch warm and constant.

It all felt… holy. That was the only word Mary had for it. She knew she should feel dirty, ashamed in some way of what she and Adam had done, but instead she felt full of light.

Even now, lying beside one another on the grass as their bodies cooled, it felt sacred. Listening to Adam’s breathing, his palm still tight in hers as they slowly came back to themselves—or rather, the people they had chosen to be that night. Mary looked up at the ink-black sky, the minute points of stars inestimably far away.

Holding onto Amelia Hardwick was very difficult indeed, almost impossible, but she had to do it. If she didn’t, she would presume things that Adam had never promised—not to mention start building castles in the air, castles that could never exist in reality.

And if they could be built, Mary?This wasn’t the time for her inner voice to betray her.If something could evolve from this encounter?

‘I could sleep here.’ Adam’s voice thankfully interrupted Mary’s interlude. ‘Shall we sleep here?’

‘I don’t think Amelia Hardwick is the type to sleep on grass.’

‘Amelia Hardwick has shown herself perfectly capable of being transported by a moment.’ Adam turned to her, his profile in the dim light looking unexpectedly noble. ‘I’m sure she can sleep on grass.’

‘I’m sure she can’t. I’m sure she’s still far too happy, too excited, to do anything as silly as sleep.’ Mary slowly rose to a sitting position, looking down at Adam. ‘As well as remembering, on occasion, that she has a carriage waiting.’

‘I can barely remember my own name.’

‘You’ve had far too many names to remember your first, I think.’

‘Oh, there’s always a thorn to the rose.’ Adam put his hands behind his head, smiling up at her. ‘One caresses the bloom, then—ouch!’

‘I am no rose.’

‘No. You’re something far better.’

Oh, there were so many things she wanted to say to this man. So many sentiments that she could barely name, let alone describe. As Mary looked down at Adam, the impulse to declare herself—to make some speech, some gesture—was impossible to ignore.

She reached into her reticule, where her cousin’s handkerchief lay neatly folded at the very bottom. She drew the square of linen out of her reticule and held it to her face, breathing in the scent of memories—the ghost of a scent, a long-ago time where everything was different.

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